Please...It wasn’t all that long ago when you said to me “I want to die.” Since I heard you crying on the other end of the phone. Since I begged you to put the knife down. It wasn’t all that long ago when I felt a fear so deep I wondered if it had an end. When I dug my nails into my palms and felt the blood run down my arm, and wondered if you’d soon feel the same kind of warmth. You cried. I pleaded. You wanted me to hang up. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Your end got quiet, and my heart started racing. “Say something, anything, please…” I’d never heard my voice sound like that before. I wonder if you knew that? “I’m going to bed. Good night.” And that was it. You never talked about it again. Neither did I. That’s the night I realized how much I loved you. I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to. But I did. And I do. You didn’t kill yourself, but after that night everything changed. You didn’t need me anymore. I didn’t need you till then. Why can’t the timing on these things ever turn out right? A/N: The past seems to be haunting me these days. | 
